by Ward, Penny
“I will have made my decision by then,” I smile to him.
“I’ll be there. I hope you are too.”
I collect my bags without saying another word and leave the hotel room to go to my car.
I have three days to drive back to New York and by then I will have made my decision…
What would you choose?
The End
Romance:
Her Fighter
Penny Ward
Chapter 1
Birthdays had never been fun for me and today was no different.
Five o’clock couldn’t come soon enough - I wanted out of this hell-hole, and quick. Didn’t everyone want to leave sooner rather than later on a Friday? Surely I couldn’t be the only one.
Maybe my reasons were a little different than everyone else’s, though. While some wanted to be off because it was the gateway to a weekend of freedom, I was ready to be off because it was my birthday.
Yes — I was the grand-old age of twenty-five.
My younger sister, twenty-one as of two weeks prior, had tried to convince me to call in sick today, but I hadn’t. I told her I couldn’t afford the time off, although really I could.
I am an accountant.
I am good with numbers and finances. That’s what I do well.
I had enough saved up that I could last at least a month without worry, but that didn’t matter. I didn’t want to miss time if it wasn’t necessary. Kate believed it made me a stick-in-the-mud. I believed it made me a reliable employee.
Still, tonight was supposed to be special.
Michael had sent me a text around lunchtime, mentioning he had something to talk to me about tonight when he came over to my apartment, and Kate and I were planning on seeing the midnight showing of some new movie she was dying to see.
I love Kate, but her choice in movies sucks.
I mean, really sucks.
This was some new vampire romance I knew nothing about. The next best thing since Twilight, which I still had mixed feelings about. I’m a firm believer that vampires are monsters. I had more love for Count Dracula than I did Edward Cullen. Kate loved it though and she wanted to see this new movie. I didn’t know anything about the storyline, but I’d take her to see it because I love her.
“Claire?” I glanced up at the sound of my name and saw Don, my boss, standing at the entrance of my cubical.
His face, which always looked frazzled and drawn, looked even more so.
There was a mixture of worry and sorrow in his eyes that made a cold fear develop in the pit of my stomach.
It settled down like a cold, dead weight, and I swallowed hard around the lump caught in my throat.
“Yes, Don?” My fear burrowed in my brain like worms in the earth, but I didn’t let it show in my voice, which I kept sweet and pleasant, as I did with all the clients I spoke to as well.
Granted, most of my work was done via email and over the phone these days, but—as my mother would say, “A woman whose tongue is thick with honey is taken more seriously than that thinned with barbs.”
I never understood the phrase, but somehow it still made sense.
“Can I see you in my office before you leave for the day?”
“Of course, sir.”
He gave me a quick nod and turned away.
I couldn’t imagine what he wanted to talk about.
Fear filled my stomach, like a glop of hardened oatmeal, making me sick with worry.
I spent the last hour of my shift going over every account I’d worked on for the last month with a fine-tooth comb, trying to see if I had messed up.
If there was anything to see, I was blind to it.
Just before five, I stood from my desk, satisfied that whatever was going on, it wasn’t due to lack of funds in any of the accounts I’d been working on.
The notion made the sour feeling in my stomach disperse somewhat, but I noted that it was still there, just quiet, waiting. My heels clacked against the floor as I walked toward Don’s office, the silence echoing around me.
Where was everyone?
Had they gone home already?
The worry I’d been trying to get rid of raised its ugly head and struck with full-force once more. Panic threatened to choke me again.
I paused outside Don’s office door, my hand shaking as I reached for the knob.
There’s nothing to be nervous about, I thought. He just wants to tell you happy birthday, and then you’ll be on your way.
I knew it wasn’t the truth though.
I had never told anyone at the office when my birthday was. Something else was going on. It was just a matter of finding out what and figuring out how to handle the issues that revolved around it.
“Come in,” Don said, making me realize I had lifted my hand and knocked.
I opened the door and stepped inside. “You wanted to see me, Don.”
“Yes, Claire. Come in and have a seat.” Don shifted in his chair as he waited for me to sit across from him in one of the two free chairs.
He pressed his hands together and pressed them against his mouth, as if he was contemplating what he was going to say and studying me with the same mixture of worry and sorrow he’d had earlier.
A knot formed in my stomach and I wondered what was about to occur.
He lowered his hands and his eyes at the same time.
“Claire, the company’s not doing so well. As you know, we’ve been losing clients lately, a lot of the larger-named clients who bring in the most business.”
I nodded, silent.
I had noticed such occurrences, but I had thought it to be just a slow season.
“The truth is we’re going bankrupt because of it, and as a result we’re having to cut our staff.”
My eyes widened as it dawned on me why I was sitting in Don’s office.
I was being let go.
Damn.
“But…” I started to say, about to plead that it was my birthday.
“I’m sorry, Claire.” He honestly seemed apologetic, but I couldn’t tell if it was an act because he wanted to avoid a scene or if he was honestly sincere. In the end, it didn’t matter.
I hung my head. There was nothing that could be said.
It was done.
Damn.
I somehow found the strength to find my feet and shuffled out of his office.
There wasn’t much in my cubicle.
Even though I’d worked there Monday through Friday for the past five years, I’d never stored many personal items there. There was one picture frame that held an image of my whole family—before Mom and Dad’s divorce—and another of me with Michael, my boyfriend of two years. There were notes and lip balms I’d shoved in the desk as well, but in the end, everything I’d ever brought to the office fit in my purse.
It took all of my strength not to break down into tears as I cleaned out my desk, but I managed it. The whole time, I wondered what I’d done to deserve this, and what I was going to do about a job in the meantime.
The truth was, I’d gotten hired here while I was still in college and had no idea where else I might submit my resume.
The idea of job searching was foreign to me, but I knew I needed to get on that as soon as possible. Walking out the front door, I drew a deep breath and hailed a taxi.
After giving the driver my apartment address, I pulled out my phone and scanned through the messages left for me while I’d been at work.
There was a missed call from Michael and a voicemail, as well as three texts from Kate.
I responded to the texts first, asking Kate where she wanted to meet and when, letting her know that I had some bad news when she and I saw one another.
My phone buzzed before I had a chance to listen to the voicemail on my phone.
Kate wanted to know what was going on. I told her it was something I wanted to discuss with her in person, not through text. If she sent a reply, I missed it as I dialed my voicemail and listened to the message that had bee
n left for me.
“Please give me some good news, Michael,” I whispered to myself as the taxi driver pulled up in front of my apartment complex.
I paid my fee and climbed out just as his voice sounded in my ear.
A wave of calm washed through me upon hearing his voice, but it was soon wiped away upon hearing what he had to say.
“Claire, when you get this message, call me as soon as you can. We need to talk. I’ll see you at your apartment around five-thirty if I haven’t heard anything from you by then.”
There was no goodbye, no “I love you.”
A feeling of dread enveloped me.
What was going on?
I glanced down at my watch and saw it was a little past five-thirty now.
Catching the elevator up to the third floor, I read over the message Kate had sent me with a groan. She wanted to meet at Dad’s apartment around nine.
Dad’s. Why Dad’s?
Ever since the divorce, Dad and I haven’t gotten along so well.
He left Mom for a woman about my age, a woman who’d since filed for divorce herself and left him a broken-down drunk who spent his days watching I Love Lucy re-runs.
He was pathetic, and I groaned at the thought of having to go by his place.
Of course she wanted to meet there though. She was the one staying with him, supporting him.
I had taken off, gotten my own life.
She was the one stuck having to care for him as he slowly drank his life away. In a way I felt guilty, but in another, I knew he’d pull out of his funk if she weren’t around babying him all the time. It was a double-edged sword, and I was always careful not to stand too close to the blade.
The elevator dinged, and I climbed out.
The hallway toward my place was quiet, but I saw Michael standing in front of my door. He was pacing back and forth before my door, as if he was waiting for me to open it for him.
He clearly didn’t know that I wasn’t home yet.
I always got off at five, and it was only a twenty-minute walk. Driving was always faster though.
He glanced up and started when he saw me walking towards him. “Claire, where have you been?”
“Work,” I said, tears threatening to spill from my eyes now that I was around someone who would understand my pain and help me through it. “I was let go today.”
“What?” The shock was evident in his voice. The way his eyes widened made me feel so much better.
I nodded. “Apparently, the company’s going bankrupt, and they’re letting people go.”
He rubbed my arms. I noticed how he hadn’t pulled me in for a hug, which was what I really needed.
A hug, a kiss, and maybe a little more after that.
“Oh, Claire. That’s horrible. What are you going to do?”
That was the million-dollar question, wasn’t it? What was I going to do?
“I guess I’m going to start job hunting.”
I tried to smile, but it was weak and I felt my armor crack a little more when I still didn’t receive a hug. In fact, Michael was trying his hardest not to touch me at all.
“Michael, what’s wrong?” I asked.
I unlocked my apartment door and switched on the light as I stepped inside, setting my purse on the coffee table in the living room.
It took me a few moments to realize he didn’t follow me inside.
That made the anxiety inside grow even more, and I returned to the door. He was still standing outside my apartment, his shoulders sagging, looking miserable.
“Claire, I know you’ve had a hard day, and I hate to make it worse, but I have to say this…”
“What?”
“I don’t think it’s working out between us.”
It was as if he’d kicked out his feet and caught me in my throat. I staggered back a step, as if from a physical blow and stared at him.
A small whimper escaped my mouth.
My eyes widened, and the tears I’d been holding back all afternoon flowed freely from my eyes now. Not now. Not today.
“What?” I asked.
He shook his head. “We just want different things in life, and I . . .”
He paused as if saying these words physically hurt him. They were nothing to him compared to what they were to me. Each word felt like he was taking a dagger, driving it into my heart and then yanking it down to shred the last of whatever dignity I had left.
“I just can’t do this anymore.” Without another word, he turned and walked away down the hall.
I just stared after him, dumbfounded.
This was not turning out to be a happy birthday.
Chapter 2
In a way, meeting with my sister Kate was worse.
As soon as I walked inside, she demanded I tell her what was going on. Her green eyes grew somber as I told her about losing my job, but then they flashed dangerously when I told her about Michael breaking up with me.
“That jerk!” she snarled. “He couldn’t wait another week, or at least until tomorrow? You know, after your birthday?”
“It doesn’t matter,” I said, my shoulders sagging. I’d already cried once that evening. I had no desire to do it again at the moment.
Her face softened as she looked at me. “What are you going to do?”
It was the second time that question had been asked of me, and I still didn’t have a real good answer.
“I’m not sure,” I admitted.
She grinned. “Well, if worse comes to worse, know you always have a home with me and Dad.” She jerked her thumb in the direction where our Dad sat on a recliner, a beer in one hand and the television remote in the other. He stared at the screen as if it didn’t exist, like he was stuck in another world. For all I knew, he was.
“Umm, thanks, but no thanks.” She shrugged. She’d long ago gotten over my lack of concern where Dad was concerned.
“You could always move back in with Mom,” she whispered, careful to keep her voice low, lest our Dad hear her. I didn’t really think it mattered, but when the subject was Mom, one could never be too certain. “At least until you get yourself back on your feet, that is.”
That was something I hadn’t considered before.
After the divorce, Mom had moved as far away from LA as she could get, all the way across the US to New York.
While moving in with Mom was probably not the most ideal choice, it was better than nothing.
Maybe it was time for my life to change?
Kate grinned when I said, “I’ll give her a call.”
****
Less than a month later, I was on a plane out east, heading to New York City.
The New York City.
A place of adventure, excitement and danger.
The idea both excited and terrified me, as I’d never left LA before.
This would certainly be a new experience for me. Mom had agreed that the best course of action would be for me to come live with her until I got back on my feet.
“Besides,” she said to me with a laugh. “Half the time, it will be like you live alone anyway.”
When I had asked why, I discovered Mom was seeing a professional football coach and was traveling with him to his games, so she wasn’t even at her apartment.
She left directions with security that I was to be let into the apartment when I got there, and she left me a key inside. I didn’t know what made me more nervous: moving to a new state I’d only heard stories about or being alone inside someone else’s home.
When the plane landed, I gathered what little baggage I had with me and took a taxi to her apartment. I was led up to the room without an issue and allowed inside where a key and a note were waiting for me just inside the doorway.
“Dearest daughter,” I read aloud, feigning an English accent and pretending to hold a teacup as I spoke. “I apologize that I have missed you and hope you find everything to your liking.”
I glanced around and noticed how barren the place was.
That wo
uld have to change.
I thought I was bad at work for having too few personal items in my desk, but woof! Looking around the apartment, I realized I was overloaded with crap compared to Mom.
Did she even live here?
There were no pictures to speak of, and even the furniture was the minimum anyone may have.
No more than necessary.
“I am away on holiday, as you and I discussed over the phone, and I am unsure of when I’ll arrive back.” Reading the letter out loud did wonders for my homesickness, and I repressed the urge to giggle as I continued. “I’m sorry you had a lousy birthday. Please look in the fridge. Maybe you will find something to cheer you up. Happy birthday, darling, and welcome home.”
Setting the letter down on the corner of the table, I rounded an island in the middle of the kitchen and approached the fridge with caution. It was my Mom, and she had always been known for her tricks when Kate and I were children. Was that all this was? An elaborate trick?
Part of me thought it was.
The other was ready for some kind of normalcy in my life.
When I opened the fridge, I found a small cake with my name personalized on it and a note pasted to the top that said, “Happy Birthday, Claire!”
I smiled, pulled it out and ate a few bites of it before I stuck it back in the fridge.
A quick tour of Mom’s apartment showed me that she lived sparsely.
There were two bedrooms, one bathroom, the kitchen (which doubled as a small dining area), and the living room.
I used the restroom real quick before finishing my exploration.
Her room had a computer, which I promptly booted up in the hopes that it wasn’t password protected. Knowing my Mom, it wasn’t, but maybe her boyfriend—whoever he was—had helped her set it up, in which case, I was screwed.
I didn’t have a computer of my own even though I was an accountant and worked on a computer all the time at work. I’d never needed one before as I didn’t use social media except on my phone and I didn’t do a lot of anything else, including email, although I would use that to retrieve my resume and update it since I hadn’t needed to in over five years.
